


the brambles and the weeds.

by blessed_image



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Fluff, Hairbrushing, How Do I Tag This, I Don’t Have Long Hair But It Sounds Like A Hard Life, I HAVENT WRITTEN IN LIKE HALF A YEAR THIS MIGHT BE LACKLUSTER, M/M, Stupid Gay Cowboys and Their Stupid Gay Romance, a lil sad, all my horses die dont judge me for using a shire horse, hinted angst, maybe? idk theyre in the heartlands anyway, my stupid dumb shire horse wyvern who i refuse to not ride even at times when hes useless, short but sweet, this is the softest thing ive ever written and its still got a gunfight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 00:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessed_image/pseuds/blessed_image
Summary: Arthur thinks long hair is stupid. So does Charles.





	the brambles and the weeds.

The last thing Charles saw before he hit the water below was Arthur reaching for his revolver. 

He hears some shouting beyond the muffled stream, the exchanging of bullets and the way Taima startles; making her way to the shore to avoid any stray shots. As quickly as he can, he collects his bearings- throwing himself back up and above the river, Charles unholsters his own revolver to take out one of the last men standing. He’s not too surprised that Arthur had done a good enough job ridding the world of at least half of their attackers in the time it took Charles to get up- but a small huff still escapes him, watching as another body drops in answer to the other man’s wrath.

“You good?” he asks, nonchalantly looking over his shoulder for a brief second at the soaked man. Charles hums in response, deeming words unnecessary whilst trying to focus on gunfire. The last of the ambushers fall at the command of Charles’ gun, Taima neighing in a somewhat higher pitched tone at the thump. 

“You, er, you don’t look too good.” Arthur has a way with words, he has noticed; it seems as if he has never really gotten accustomed to passive conversations, even after all this time. His hands waving over his face to make his point, whilst Charles nods his head before standing on his feet. 

“No?” He asks, blinking droplets off his eyelashes, reholstering his weapon and ignoring the way even Arthur’s horse seems to mock his predicament. 

“Your hair’s knotted.” Climbing off of Wyvern, he looks away for a moment and Charles puts metaphorical money on it that he’s grinning. “And wet.”

They stare blankly at eachother.

“And wet.” Charles echoes before shaking his head. “Okay.”

Arthur snorts at the sight of water almost pouring from the other’s hair, the length making the amount almost overwhelming. Charles pulls his hair to his shoulder, hissing as he rips out the band that wraps it all up, usually neat but the water flow had thrown it about in such directions that it no longer was that.He was used to this though, having his hair the way it is comes with inconveniences- needing to be maintained daily, cleaned more often than what it would if it had been short. Luckily, not too long ago, in 1898 the “hairbrush” as they called it had been improved- no longer so difficult to work with that he gave up completely on some days. He carries one with Taima, knowing moments such as these would occur more often in the life he lives.

The thing is larger than it’s previous version, less bristles though; it was square with a moderately sized handle that only fit in one of the improved satchles carried on saddles. It was practical, but annoying to carry. He frowns at it more often than not. Taking a seat on a nearby rock, both of the outlaws needing a moment to breathe, he frowns at it once more.

“You want help there?” A voice asks, clouded slightly from the cigarette perched between the lips of the beholder. Charles stares longer than he should, nodding once he manages to rip his eyes away. “Yeah, you ain’t gonna do too rich of a job on your own there.” 

Charles hums in reply, Arthur taking the brush out of his palm and he tries not too sigh too loudly against the feeling of a rough hand lifting a section of his hair. It’s silent for the most part as the knots come undone, besides the few times Charles has no choice other than to grimace when Arthur pulls too hard.

“Mary-Beth does this a lot.” He starts, watching a bird peck at one of the bodies they left to lay on the river shore. 

“Yeah?” He’s asked, as a strand is reached for by his ear. 

“Or Tilly.” Charles runs the memory through his mind like sand through his fingers, eyes slowly falling shut at the serenity- Arthur is being awkward, but the moment happening right now is too rare for him to really take much notice. “Suppose they’re used to dealing with hair like mine.”

Arthur clears his throat, Charles can almost feel it. He hums.

“Nice girls.” The comment comes out in such a tone that makes him almost roll his eyes. Almost. “You sweet on one of them?”

But that does make him open them to look up into Arthur’s own, eyebrow raised and head tilted back. The man shrugs.

“Just askin’. You’re close to them is all.”

Squinting up at him, Charles forces him to keep eye-contact before he closes his eyes again and shakes his head. Lowering his head so that Arthur has better access to his hair again, he speaks. 

“No. Not my thing.” A pause. “Plus, Mary-Beth has her sights on that Kieran.”

“The O’Driscoll boy?” He scoffs.

“The Duffy boy.” Charles corrects absentmindedly. “He isn’t an O’Driscoll anymore.” Humming, Arthur runs his fingers through another strand. “They’d be nice together.” 

“There’s a lot of people who would be nice together, world just ain’t gonna let us see that nice.” There’s something almost sad to the way his tongue wraps around those words, as if they mean something more than what they are- but the both of them decide not to expand on the conversation.

It’s silent again for a moment, besides Arthur demanding the hairtie to be given to him. It takes a second for him to wrap his head around how he is meant to get the hair into the tie, but he manages before letting out a sigh. A few touches lingered long, but they decide not to talk about that either.

“Best we head back.” They side-glace eachother before hoisting themselves up onto their respected horses, Wyvern standing taller than Taima in an almost obnoxious way. Arthur beams down at Charles in a mocking manner. “You aren’t smart, Arthur. Shire horses aren’t a smart choice on trips such as these.” 

“Hey, I don’t want you sayin’ nothin’ about Wyvern.” Charles scoffs. “You’re a real piece of work, Mr Smith.”

“You’re a real fool, Mr Morgan.”

At that, Wyvern’s pace is encouraged to go faster.

“At least my hair don’t need to be fussed with every hour.” He states, looking into the trees.

“You sure?” Charles inquires, a smile playing at his face, pointing at the locks of hair that touch his friend’s shoulders. Arthur looks back at him with an unamused face. “Doesn’t look that short to me.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Mind your tone.”

Charles laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> ugh ew this is kinda gross now that im proofreading it.....anyway yes The Improved Hairbrush was like...improved in 1898 so thats cool


End file.
